A FEATHER

By Sofie Raphael

 

I saw a white, angelic feather on the tube seat. I smiled and picked it up.

I slept through my alarm, I never do that. For some reason my phone battery died and it just stopped working, much like most of the technology in my possession. Can you image what would happen if we, as people, decided to stop working? It would be a never ending strike and we would probably all cease to survive! I didn’t have my glasses on but I could tell my room wasn’t quite right. It was a niggling feeling, like getting shivers in a warm room. I put my glasses on, hoping not to see some killer clown or something equally creepy. My clothes rail was broken; clothes were spread all over the floor mimicking silhouettes of crime scene bodies. I grabbed a chunky jumper which I knew made me look like the Michelin Man. Scraping my hair back into a frizzy ponytail fluff ball, I ran out the door towards the train station.

Finally, I was on the train and people kept looking towards me. I know I didn’t look great but geez, give a girl a break! I subconsciously felt my underarm and sniffed my finger tips, I smelt like mint shower gel. Fuck them all. Then, I caught a whiff of something and looked at the person opposite me giving them a disapproving look. Probably did a fart, smelly sod. He lowered his eyes to my feet, there was a thick brown sludge covering the top of my boot. I must have grazed my bag as I crossed my leg as there was a similar sludge on the bag too. I lifted my bag up and caught the smell again, shit it’s shit!

I practically ran to the train toilets and wiped my shoe and bag with a wad of tissues, then sprayed it with deodorant to mask the smell. Sheepishly, I walked back in the opposite direction from which I had come and found that there were no seats left. I stood for fifty minutes in high heeled boots, just marvellous. My phone buzzed from my bag, ‘I’m too sexy’ started playing, shit my sister must have changed my ringtone again…

‘Hi grandma’. My grandma hardly ever called me; she’s constantly travelling with her new partner. Good for her really but it would be nice for her to remember her family sometimes.

‘Ella, last week I went to Morocco. And it was fabulous, you have to go, anyway, I found a feather on our hotel bath. How strange is that? It’s your granddad; he’s still watching over me.’ My grandmother always told me my granddad loved pigeons and that, when he passed, she always found a feather wherever she went. It was her good luck charm. However, I never got any luck.

We said goodbye and she promised to take me out for a drink as soon as she’s in the country next. I got off the train and onto the next for my journey. Changing at Stratford, I got onto the Central Line for Tottenham Court Road. As the train doors closed my backpack got stuck in between. The doors didn’t reopen for what felt like a while so I was stuck pressed up against the train. A few people offered help by pulling at my shoulders but I heard tearing noises and told them to stop. Most of the commuters looked at me with amusement. I finally broke free of the doors as the driver finally reopened them and an older man offered me his seat. He winked at me and that’s when I saw it.

I saw a white, angelic feather on the tube seat. I smiled and picked it up.

***

Sofie Raphael stumbled across Creative writing at university and fell in love. She wants to work in publishing and hopes to one day discover the next ‘Harry Potter’. In the meantime she spends her days working in retail and studying an MA in Creative writing. When she has the time you’ll find her reading from her overgrowing library.

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